There Once Was A Time
by Reda
Summary: Seven Years War. Treaty of Westminster. Frederick the Great of Prussia and King George II of Great Britain sign a treaty joining their nations into an alliance. As is common among nations in those days, to consummate the alliance Prussia and Britain spend a night together, even if a certain albino keeps day-dreaming about someone else. PrUk; mentions of FritzxPrussia


**Author Notes****:** I actually had something completely different than this planned a long time ago, but I just got myself into a strange PrUk mood. While trying to write PruCan. Go figure. I've been working at the Epilogue to "One Month" for like FOREVER now (or it seems that way) and written a RusCan one-shot for a gift-fic in the meantime. Now this. I don't know. Really. I don't. Originally, this PrUk was a bit of a One Piece/ Hetalia crossover. It was just Prussia and England in a bar talking about old times, but, heh, then we role-played something else recently with Canada going back in time to meet the Prussia during Seven Years War time...and...he just so happens to stumble into Prussia and England "consummating an alliance" so to speak. Yeah. So, this is all a long-winded way of me telling you how I've had this blank document with "PrUK" labeled on it because I've _wanted_ to do something for this pairing...and this is what I get. Historical-ish Hetalia! Cheers?

**Pairings****: "**What? I thought you said this was PrUk?" Yeah, well, there's a (big) underlying hint of FritzxPrussia so I had to mention it ;P

**Warnings:****  
-**Rated M for a reason! (cough cough, if you are under-age...please don't tell me)  
-Bondage-kink.  
-Seme/Uke dynamic is stupid. Top/Bottom? They switch. Starts one way, goes the other. Eh. Have fun :D  
-Also, I am not British, so I'm sorry if I overuse or misuse phrases; feel free to correct me ^^  
-One last thing: lol future tense? I dunno where that came from, honestly; I hope it isn't too jarring; I like to experiment. Other than a few places, it's in present tense. Actually, in general, I've been reading a lot of literary fiction lately so I've picked up a weird author voice at the moment. I hope _that_ isn't too jarring, either, but considering the time-frame I threw this fic into – it might work. Who knows?

**Inspiration****:** Sometimes I get ideas from songs, videos, art, etc. This one comes from a video titled [APH] Friends Never Say Goodbye (PrUK) on the tube-of-you (you know what I mean).

**Summary****: **Seven Years War. Treaty of Westminster. Frederick the Great of Prussia and King George II of Great Britain sign a treaty joining their nations into an alliance. As is common among nations in those days, to consummate the alliance Prussia and Britain spend a night together, even if a certain albino keeps day-dreaming about someone else.

~!~

There Once Was A Time...

~!~

There will be a day when he heartily denies this having ever happened. There will be a time when neither one of them will be able to look the other in the eye. There will be a moment when they turn up a pint together and glance at each other and remember times long forgotten, but it will never be mentioned. It will be like a secret kept from the rest of the world, from their lovers, from even themselves lest they actually _talk _about what happened between them as if it were something serious. It will forever remain that little moment in time when there _might _have been something had others not existed to stray their eyes. Yes, there will be a day when this is all but a memory...but for now?

"Bloody hell, you git, move!"

His cry isn't answered as he wishes. The albino is simply _sitting there, _his eyes unfocused, as if lost in some day dream. The lighting in the room makes it difficult to see much of anything – the candles having been blown out long ago lest they knock something over and cause the whole room to shoot up in a blaze. He can hear the man breathing above him, not quite the heavy pants expected in this situation; granted, they haven't gotten very far, yet. Of course one of the _reasons_ they haven't gone anywhere is because the idiot albino currently sheathed inside him has decided to freeze up and let his thoughts take him elsewhere.

He growls and tries to punch at the man, but of course his hands have been tied to the bedposts above him. Bloody Prussian kink. Why has he even agreed to this much? He is the British Empire for fuck's sake! And this albino, this haughty, obnoxiously loud _Prussian_ who acts like he owns half the land in the world when in fact he is actually a rather small country surrounded by France, Austria, and Russia – all _much_ bigger than him.

Perhaps that's why he thinks this treaty is not such a bad idea after all. True, Britain gets an ally to keep France busy on the continent so he can worry about the colonies elsewhere. That French land-grabbing hooligan is off trying to steal what should belong to the British Empire. He cannot allow _that_, and Prussia is, of course, the only option left to form an alliance with...once Austria aligned with France.

Still, perhaps there is a small part of him that feels sorry for the poor chap surrounded by such bigger and badder countries. He does not see much hope for Prussia, but as someone who has been a small nation, sometimes referred to even as "the black sheep of Europe," he has a wish to see this other nation survive and win against insurmountable odds, too.

Not that he would _ever_ say so out loud, but he is hoping for a bit of a bond here. He doesn't have very many friends. Maybe that is why he spends so much time with America. He closes his eyes as the name hits his mind, reminding himself – _not now; not during such an act._

Forcing his thoughts to the side, he growls up at Prussia, still feeling a little miffed to be so tricked into his current position. "Would you come off your day-dream and finish what you started?"

_Finally_, the red-eyed man blinks and seems to realize what he was doing before his little escapade. There is a few moments of confusion as he looks down at England, and then a grin spreads across the pale face. "I was trying to imagine Fritz in this position."

Arthur blinks, frowns, trying to figure out why someone would _say _something so blatantly rude even if it were true. Then he remembers. This is Prussia. He rolls his eyes, then clamps his teeth shut when the albino finally starts to move. He cannot do anything except take it at this point – once again wondering why he ever allowed this position – and the loud man is surprisingly gentle in his movements, like he knows what he's doing even if he's callous with his words.

Getting a feel for the man's pace, he dares to open his mouth to talk. With most, there is no talking during such acts. Talking is the very step of accepting more than a simple alliance – of trying for more. Nation relations aren't always bound by their boss's decisions, after all, though most of them prefer to keep their distance. For some reason, the silence – marked only by grunts, pants, the creaking of the bed – is more awkward with Prussia, as if _talking_ is _necessary_ for such a thing. He begins to wonder what Gilbert has done with any others that he has bedded...or who.

The question he asks is only natural, if incomplete in its sentence structure. "Fritz is...?"

Prussia cracks another grin, as he pauses in his absurdly slow pace. He doesn't answer right away, instead choosing to lift Britain's legs up, bending them back toward his chest, holding them at the knee joints, leaving him spread and open. Arthur has the urge to pull at his restraints, feeling the blush coat his face as much as he fights it. This man...

"He's my king," Gilbert says before thrusting in hard.

The shock of the answer combined with the sudden thrust makes his eyes open wide and his cry echo through the room and down the currently empty hallways. His head knocks against the headboard of the bed, and his eyes close as he returns to gritting his teeth. The movements are faster now and harder and deeper and so close to hitting the spot he's craving at the moment.

As he's trying to understand why a country would dare let themselves fall in love with a human – it was one of the many warnings, one of the many _don't-do-this-you'll-regret-it._ One of their kind with a mortal? It's insane. Absurd!

And he really would be shouting such things at the albino if the man didn't happen to finally find the perfect angle and hit his sweet spot. Which causes stars to hit his vision. (Of course, coupled with his head hitting the bed at each thrust, it comes with no surprise). His teeth separate against his will and moans begin to filter out, punctuated by a loud cry whenever the Prussian manages to hit with the right timing.

His thoughts get scrambled even further when the albino grabs his erection and begins to pump him in time with the thrusting. For a moment all he can think of is wanting more, needing more, how everything is drawing closer and closer to a climax, how the heat is growing and the pleasure is mounting and he cannot even grab anything, his hands having been forcibly tied to the bedposts. He does clench his hands and he throws his head back, his hair sticking to his forehead through the sweat. The musky scent comes and goes as does his vision. Even though his eyes refuse to open more than a sliver, it is all but worthless to try for more because all he can see is a hazy blur anyway.

That is when he feels lips on his neck, brushing gently, an insanely different touch from everything else. Lips. Tongue. Kisses. Up and down his neck and jawline. It is another absurd thing that the albino does. No one else – well, except Francis – will beg for such kisses. Arthur prefers such things to be reserved for more loving affairs, but Prussia apparently loves his kisses no matter where, how, or who they come from.

He has been fighting back the meaningful kisses all night, not wanting anything sentimental to cross between the two of them. Wanting a bond, yet not wanting it because he knows – and he now knows for sure – that Gilbert is not all interested in such a thing. Perhaps another time. Perhaps as an off-chance random fling. But not with too much meaning. Not what Arthur secretly craves.

Now that he is bound and lost in pleasure, though, the albino takes his chance, and Arthur Kirkland soon finds himself moaning into the mouth of Gilbert Beilschmidt...and he cannot bring himself to hate the man. The loud nation is surprisingly, incredibly good with his tongue, diving in and rolling around Arthur's mouth like he owns the place. The very thought makes him pull on his bonds and then moan louder, finally realizing what it is about this bondage kink that makes it so popular among the masses.

Not that he would make it a regular occurrence; not that he would prefer this; but with Gilbert holding the reigns, he doesn't think he would mind so much. The moment the thought crosses his mind, he groans, feeling his stomach clench. He's not going to get anything beyond fun flings from Prussia. The man is focused on his king, so much so that he is probably replacing Arthur with images of "Fritz," as he called him, at this very moment. The thought makes him groan again, and he starts to push back against the tongue in his mouth, trying to tell him to go away and mind his own business and doesn't he have better things to do with his time than make this take so long?

Of course, Prussia begins to pull back from his kiss _just_ as everything else reaches it's climatic moment. Arthur squeezes his eyes closed and tries to forget the sound he makes as he comes, tightening over Gilbert's erection and making the albino follow him. There are more emotions in his brain, in his heart, than he wants to allow, and it causes him to scowl as he comes down from the high, hearing the albino panting above him and yet not moving. There's the odd feeling of his own semen on his stomach, and the odd twitch of a group of muscles growing quite tired of something else sitting in between them.

When he opens his eyes, he meets a curious, slightly confused red-eyed gaze. "What did you just call me?"

Arthur feels his face flush, wishing the damnable man _hadn't_ heard his last cry, which is _very_ wishful thinking. If only the Prussian hadn't stopped kissing him at that exact moment. Maybe he could have better prepared to swallow the bloody name.

Ignoring the question, he instead scowls. "Pull out, you bloody oaf, and untie me."

"Kesese~" the grating laugh makes his hair at the back of his neck stand on end. "Only my closest friends call me 'Gil,' you know."

He narrows his eyes. He wants to spout out about how they're allies now, and doesn't that count for something? But that would only betray him, so he keeps it under wraps. It's not like he craves the Prussian specifically. No, he would just rather someone care about his needs – and not be bloody French. Is it too much to ask?

Instead, he sighs, and then gasps when Prussia decides to do as requested and pull out. "Well, if it's too much of a bother, I can request to rescind the treaty and alliance -"

Gilbert's open-mouthed look almost makes him laugh. "No, don't do that! Fritz would kill me! He was really looking forward to it."

"Just him?" Arthur doesn't know why he asks. It isn't like he had any thoughts of relations with Prussia until their bosses rather unceremoniously threw them together. How is he supposed to expect Gilbert to have wanted this, especially when it's so obvious the man craves his monarch?

As Prussia is busy untying the ropes keeping Arthur bound, he snorts. "What, you think I wanted this?" Even as the albino says it, even though he _knew_ that's what the man thought, for some reason, it still hurts. "I couldn't care less about your naval might and your pirating and your colonial wars with Francis. I'd prefer to be alone than have to deal with allies." The ropes come off and Gilbert sits back, yawning and running a hand almost arrogantly through his hair. "Besides, I doubt your military is anywhere near as awesome as mine."

That is what tips him over. The lack of desire for an actual alliance, he could understand. Hell, he could understand Prussia's complete lack of interest and true knowledge of Arthur's power in the current state of the world. The insult, though. _That_ he could not ignore. That he _would not_ ignore.

Thankful to be free, Arthur uses what power he has to switch his positions with Gilbert. He throws the albino on his back and climbs on top of him, never mind the ache around his upper thighs. He lets his eyes flash and he leans in close, hands reaching out to close around the pale wrists, pinning them to the bed underneath.

"It seems like you do not appreciate the might of the British Empire."

Even pinned underneath him, the albino doesn't seem the least bit phased. "Tch. You let me come in here and fuck you in your own bed, in your own house, surrounded by your own guard. If you're so great, then why? Seems like I'm the one with real power here." Rude. Crass. And simplistic.

_Though he makes a good point. Why did I give him control? I've been asking myself all night..._

Narrowing his eyes, he leans in until he is eye-to-eye with the hot-headed red-eyed man. "My dear Gilbert, power is not always synonymous with who has control, especially not in the bed room." Before the Prussian can give his obvious disagreement with such a statement, Arthur moves back a hair and smirks. "Do not mistake my choice tonight as a weakness. In fact, I believe I've learned how to make you scream without having to resort to penetration."

To this, Prussia scoffs, though there is a bit of curiosity and possibly a hint of fear in those red eyes. "Like you would have the stamina for another round."

_Oh? You give yourself away, Gil. Not the brightest one of the bunch, are you?_

Not finding it necessary to reply to the man – it seems Gilbert is one to always want the last word – Arthur instead drops his grip on one of Gil's wrists in order to pull the white hair, forcing the pale neck to be exposed. Prussia's insistence earlier on kissing his neck is a clear sign of something the man himself prefers. One tends to give to others what they know as being pleasurable, at least when they are not sure of their partner's personal preferences. Which also means the bondage kink could be used here as well.

Tipping the neck back, he leans in and gives a light kiss near the pressure point. He is only slightly surprised to hear the noise from Gilbert, the one held back by clamped teeth. Taking the obvious invitation, Arthur gives more. Though he personally would rather not resort to kissing, he now knows the Prussian _adores_ it. So, he moves up to another spot on the pale neck and latches on, sucking and even biting a little – enough to leave a mark in the morning.

"Ah – d-don't do that!" Prussia complains, his free hand pushing against Arthur's shoulder whilst the other hand trembles slightly in the Brit's grip.

Licking his lips, Arthur pulls back, letting the hand push him away, only so he can meet the flushed face of the pale man beneath him. "Have fun explaining that to your monarch."

Despite himself, he almost feels bad when Gilbert flinches back. Then again, it also feels wonderful to be able to crush the pride out of the obnoxious man. Not that it has anything to do with jealousy for Frederick II – of course not! That his last hope for a nation to bond with would be in love with a human. What an inopportune time. What horrendous timing.

Not giving Gilbert a chance to speak, he begins to move his hand from the hair to his chest. All he has to do is mimic whatever Prussia had done to him. All he has to do is latch onto those same areas, gently caress those same spots of skin. Playfully run fingers around the scarred chest, running up the sides.

When the skin begins to tremble and shake at his touch, he knows he's doing the right thing. When Gilbert's free hand snatches his wrist to stop him, he can only smirk. "Something wrong, Gil?"

Red eyes open and glare, though it is somewhat ruined by the panting and flushed face. "Y-you made your point."

"Stop? You want me to stop?" Arthur raises his brow in mock confusion, having known all along the albino would want to stop things before he could embarrass himself further. It doesn't take too much effort to wring his hand away from the man's grip, reaching around for the familiar rope. "I don't think so. You made a challenge to the British Empire." Grabbing Prussia's hands he proceeds to tie them together, looping the rope through the holes in the foot board design of his bed. Once this is situated, he crashes his forehead against the pale one and notices the shaking in the red eyes. "I do not forgive or forget such things so easily."

"A-Arthur -" he shuts the man up by doing what he had sworn to never do; he kisses the open mouth and involves his tongue, much in the same way that Gil had done earlier.

It is surprising how easy it is to pull noises from the pale throat. He hasn't even touched well-known sensitive areas yet, simply copying what the albino had done merely moments before. He lets his thumbs circle and poke the pale man's nipples, feeling them respond quickly, earning more strange noises from the throat of the albino, as if Gil is still trying to fight back.

One day, he will remember this moment, and sigh as he recalls his old strength. One day, he will look back and wish he could still hold such power or such control. One day, far from now, he will reminisce about the good ole' days and strangely look back at this time with such fond memories. As if he really did once upon a time wish this could have worked. As if he really did once upon a time imagine this alliance going somewhere.

For now, though, he lives in the moment. The Prussian is mistaken to believe that the great British Empire has no stamina for a second round, though it did give away the fact that Gilbert did not see himself as capable of keeping control enough to handle more than one. With Gil making such light innocent moans, it does not take long for Arthur to get hard again, and as much as he wants to fuck the albino raw at this point, he has yet to get a real scream from the pale. Moans, yes. Scream? Eh, not so much.

His hand moves down to run fingers along the Prussian's pride and joy. He is not about to defile his lips with such a thing, but he believes his hand can do just what he needs. Touching lightly at first, sliding two fingers up and then down, playing with the tip, smirking when he sees pre-cum leaking free. Gilbert is making noise, too. Delightful little moans as he squirms underneath Arthur's dominating figure.

With his other hand, he begins to toy with the skin around the albino's entrance. Not sliding in or anything, no, but running along the surface, teasing, feeling the muscles twitching, getting even more noises from the pale man as Prussia goes further and further into his lost little world of pleasure.

And then he begins to pump the hard member, squeezing it tightly, letting his hand mimic the effect of walls closing around it. Although it is not his original intention to make Gilbert climax so quickly, it happens quite to his surprise. When Prussia lets loose with a cry into the night air, not even needing more stimulation, his pale face completely red...Arthur has to sit back and blink, chuckling at how simple it all had been.

"Who has no stamina?" He whispers, leaning forward to whisper and then lick at the albino's ear.

Gilbert shivers. "Sh-shut up."

Arthur shakes his head only to slide fingers into Prussia's hole without warning and without lubrication, not caring for the gentle side at the moment. Gilbert tenses, then relaxes without having to be told, his breath hitching and his eyes squeezing shut. He is reminded how young the man beneath him is, or truly how young his nation is comparatively. A rising star in the European continent. Whereas England has existed on the map in some form or another since before Roman times, Prussia is a rather recent occurrence to the national stage. A young nation shouting defiance at all those who claim he won't last long.

He is quick to add a second finger, then a third, scissoring and stretching, watching the albino's face scrunch up as he is prodded in the most intimate of places. Then Arthur's fingers brush against something and the Prussian trembles, his face exploding into a different haze, his more-than-likely tired member lifting back into a semblance of want and need. He plays a bit more, getting the pants and clipped noises he has come to love hearing in just these few minutes, and then he pulls his fingers out, pleased to hear Gilbert let out a whine.

"You sound like a young whore, begging for more. Do you do this for your precious Fritz?"

Gil's red eyes are glaring when they open to slits. There is something else there. Something unspoken. Something Gilbert isn't saying.

Arthur doesn't give him much of a chance to open up, either. He slams into the pale man, grunting at the feeling of being enveloped, at the sound of Prussia knocking his head against the foot board behind him, at the loud cry so reminiscent of his own earlier that echoes through the hallways.

Soon the air is filled with their mixed groans and gasps, moans and murmurs, cries and curses. As Arthur takes the albino through wave after wave of pleasure. As he himself trembles and grips to the pale skin. As their mouths connect and the kissing becomes addicting. He loses himself in it all.

Thoughts go elsewhere, lost only to the here and now. Not even the emotions are present. Just the heat and the need. The want and the primal urge. The pace grows faster. The cries reach sharper pitches. The thrusting and the rhyme and reason of it all. The fact that this is all just an alliance thing, just an old tradition brought to the fullest of moments.

Prussia climaxes first, for his third time, water hitting those hazy red eyes as he screams his release. Arthur finds himself following shortly thereafter, pushing in just a few more times, riding his own orgasm to completion. In the midst of the high, they look at each other, and they know...something _could_ exist here. Something more.

Then the high leaves and Arthur pulls out, chest heaving as he reaches over to untie the albino from the bed. Prussia flops back as soon as he can, muscles weak and overused, eyelids fluttering as he fights to stay awake, his pride demanding he not give in to such demands of his body. Arthur sits back against the headboard, stretching one leg out and letting the other knee come to his chest, leaning an arm against it.

They say nothing.

After a moment, Arthur grabs his shirt from beside the bed and begins to get dressed to at least look somewhat presentable. It should be a simple moment. It should not feel so awkward. He has done this before, with other nations, so there is no reason for this moment with Gilbert Beilschmidt to feel so _plainly_ _awkward_.

He grits his teeth as he buttons his shirt and keeps his eyes focused elsewhere as the albino continues to lay slumped on his bed as if it is no big deal. "I haven't told him, yet."

He blinks at the confession, his brain taking a second to process what he's witnessed. This arrogant, prideful nation just confessed to him, and what for? Why? About what, even?

"Told who – what?" he snaps.

Gilbert snorts. "Fritz. About my feelings."

His eyes find their way to the albino, who is slowly crawling up to a sitting position as well, swinging legs over the bed as if to walk away, though he doesn't move. "You – what?" For some reason, he feels rather angry to learn this little piece of information. "You spend all this time talking about how you're imagining him instead of me – and then you tell me you have yet to speak to him?"

"Yeah," Gil laughs. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

Stupid? It's infuriating! He lets some kind of upset noise escape his throat, though he is unable to quite explain it with the correct detail. Whatever it is, it makes Prussia turn his gaze and catch his glare. "You -! Get out! I don't want to hear it!"

Gilbert doesn't move, frowning, even as Arthur leans forward and shoves a finger angrily in his face. "Something bothering you?"

"No, you bloody fool!" Arthur snaps, unable to handle being so close to such an imbecile. He stands up and walks out of the room, moving down the hallway to a second bedroom. It is a big place. A nice mansion. He has rooms for every occasion. It only angers him further to hear the man following him. "I said get out!"

It infuriates him even further when Gil catches up to him, grabs an arm, and throws him up against a wall, pulling strength from some hidden fountain in order to pin him and stare at him, red eyes so different, so bright, so probing. After a moment of those eyes searching him, a hand cups his chin, and then there's a kiss. Completely free from the heat of sex. Free and with a different intention entirely. His heart shatters at the Prussian's perfectly _wrongly timed..._

"Artie, I think we'll make great friends."

He can't even laugh at the words, feeling betrayed even though there had never been a moment between them before this. Of course, the person he wants to try something serious with...is in love with someone else. Is that not the way life always works? Will he always be left returning to that bloody French idiot...

"Don't call me that," he mutters, keeping everything back, trying to keep it all hidden.

"What? So you can give me a nickname and I can't give one to you?" Prussia says back, grinning like the fool he is.

Arthur scowls and pushes him back. "Just get dressed and leave already, would you?" He glares, wanting to mean it, wanting to send this idiot away and never see him again – except _not_ wanting that and feeling so _utterly lost_ because his emotions are running away without his approval again. "And don't forget to tell your bloody king what you bloody think!"

Prussia will sit there for a moment, as if trying to decide between two options, and he will leave that night. He will get on his horse and leave to eventually tell his feelings to Fritz. They will have a happy moment in time. Battles and frenzy and excitement and love and everything one can ever gain from a relationship with a human. When Fritz dies, Arthur will stand back and be there, a comforting friend, even after the betrayal of Prussia offering aid to America's revolution...because once upon a time, there was a chance for something more.

And one day, Arthur will connect eyes with him again. There will be a moment full of hatred where he sends the albino to his death as far as nationhood is concerned, helping to dissolve the once smaller – but great – nation he had once had an urge to help. As the world looks on, they will carry the knowledge of something more, and the bitterness built up between them will make everything fall apart. And, yet, they will meet eyes and without a word, things will be understood, if only in a nod and a shrug.

In days of present time, they will meet and say not a word about the past. There will be no need to mention it. The good, the bad, the betrayals, the awkward friendship...It will all be in the past, but they will share it with no one else. It will simply live in small gestures, in glances from one to the other, in the way they will stand up for the other when no one else will. And, sometimes, they will be alone, and wonder...

That, maybe, once upon a time, if time had turned a little slower...

~!~

_A/N: Ah, this was actually really interesting and a lot sadder than originally intended. England is acting pretty tsundere for Prussia here, which is quite hilarious/sad because Prussia is sitting here day-dreaming about Fritz. I'm a pretty heavy shipper for UsUk, but at this point in history – America's kinda /young/ and as much as I love the FACE family, I get squeamish when thinking of FrUk. So I get the feeling that Iggy wants some love and makes this alliance with Prussia and is like "hey you're not so bad...but...you're in love with your monarch...fuck..." I dunno. I always said I saw PrUk historically as an interesting relationship, and so this shows that they have a history...if a hard-to-explain one. (Also: Iggy in his prime, fucking hawt~)_

_...and my sister is gonna kill me for writing this and not finishing the Epilogue to "One Month" hah ~_

_...and for those who care I have a poll on my profile about which major work I should put focus in. _

_**Historical References****:**_

_-Treaty of Westminster: not much to say about this. Pretty much what my summary states. During the Seven Years War, Prussia and Great Britain make an alliance, signing this treaty as a way for Britain to protect its land in Hanover from France. Their intent is to avoid war. Of course, Fritz (Frederick the Great) sees their alliance as an opportunity and goes off and starts poking at Austria, but...well..._

_-Prussia and the American Revolution: Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben from Prussia came to America independently and served under George Washington as inspector general. Helped trained the troops and such. Also, Frederick II of Prussia (aka Fritz) gave support early in the war and expressed interest in opening trade with the US and bypassing English ports and allowed an American agent to buy arms in Prussia._

_-Dissolution of Prussia: Law #46 signed on Feb 25, 1947 by the Allied Control Council officially abolished Prussia. It was seen as a symbolic necessity, blaming Prussian culture for Nazism, and as Churchill stated in 1943: "The core of Germany is Prussia. There is the source of the recurring pestilence." _


End file.
